The Skeleton Man
by remonrime
Summary: Sally dared to lift her head out of curiosity, however what she saw looming out in the distance, tall and stark and irrefutably skeletal, made her fictitious heart palpitate and the rest of her disembodied limbs jerk in exhilaration. "The Skeleton Man!"
1. Beginnings

**Title: The Skeleton Man**

**Rating: T**

**Genre: Romance/General/Angst (will lead to eventual Romance, because Jack's a bit dense).**

**A/N: Hey and thanks for choosing to read this fic! This is my first TNBC fic, although I've been reading them for a while now.**

**This fic is going to be a "Sally-creation" and "how-she-met-Jack" story, but I will not be retelling the movie from there on out. The rest is going to be made up by me. So technically, it's sort of AU-ish, although it's still based in Halloween Town. **

**Please read and review!**

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When Sally was first created, it was hard for her to adjust to the accommodations of the physical world. Of course, she was a rag doll, and unfortunately it would be rather difficult for her, for we know for a fact that a rag doll cannot come to life, let alone perform physical ministrations. Sally was no exception to that rule when she first awoke strapped to a cold slab of an operating table, dying leaves scattered around her like a withering blanket. The atmosphere was morbid and mixed with tangents of macabre, as if the very air itself was swiveling with dank and dingy fumes.

Dr. Finklestein was beside her, staring at her with curiosity glittering in his beady eyes, that colossal cranium of his shining like a light bulb. He had a spool of thread and a glinting needle in his tiny gloved hands, currently in the midst of adding the last and final stitches to Sally's chest. Being a freshly created rag doll, Sally didn't know how to respond -- how could she, she was a rag doll for heaven's sake? She hadn't a voice, or a will of her own, or a train of thought. Just two pairs of eyes and the observance compared to that of a 3-month-year old child.

She had eyes of course, and she was trying very hard to learn how to use them properly, for the images surrounding her were fading in and out like a blur. Finally, when she managed to focus on the dawdling doctor beside her, she blinked her eyelids (which were stinging for some strange reason) and stared at him, her stitched eyelashes seemingly enlarging her already massive oracles.

The doctor let a wicked smile snarl along his trumped lips, his disintegrating teeth spaced apart and leering out his mouth like stubs of white and gnarled cotton. His heart was beating, although he wasn't technically alive; it was probably just doing that because of the rotting juices swiveling around inside his body, but it was close enough.

He was feeling an energy surge of untamed pride as he sat there in his rickety motor-powered wheel chair, staring down at the creation that he had made with his very own hands. It had taken a whole five months in preparation and creation to construct her body and fill it with all sorts of appropriate cushioning, such as little snips of twigs and crunchy autumn leaves, and it had been even more difficult to stitch her body up and compose it in such a way so she would have the base and outline of a human, but not entirely so. No, it would have been a mistake on his part if she were to look like a flesh walker, because to put it simply, flesh walkers weren't really welcome on the streets of Halloween Town, being that they were the source of mutilating screams that the Halloweeners were always seeking after.

"Hello, my dear," Dr. Finklestein greeted his creation, faux pleasantry lacing his voice like a bitter poison. Sally stared at him without a trace of recognition showing on her face. She couldn't do anything anyway, her mind was still fresh and new and she couldn't yet comprehend even the most basic of principles. So she did what she could -- she simply stared straight at him. Dr. Finklestein smiled down at her, his grin growing large across his wrinkled face. "It's alright, my dear, we'll work on that in a matter of time."

She couldn't understand what he was saying to her; his words were nothing but a gnarled and jumbled mess of sounds that she couldn't possibly fathom to interpret. Actually, she wasn't really thinking to begin with, being that once again, her brain was fresh and new…if she even had a brain that is.

"Rest my dear, you simply need rest," he told her in a soothing tone, which was probably as soothing as a boiling pot of Deadly Night Shade, but who could complain? Once again, Sally simply could not understand until Dr. Finklestein's tiny and withered hands came into her view and tried to cover her two massive eyes, and so, in natural response, Sally immediately closed them.

The rest of the hours that passed were spent with her lying there on the table while Dr. Finklestein tried to add the last finishing touches to his nearly completed masterpiece.

Over the next two months, Sally's development had steadily progressed. She was now able to respond to her environment given the situation, and she was always fully attentive and alert with her surroundings. Although she couldn't yet walk properly on her own (or speak), she was perfectly fine with just sitting around and silently observing her creator and master as he milled about his lab and attended to his various experiments.

Dr. Finklestein was blatantly pleased by Sally's progression in her motor and communication skills, for she would often point or stare at an object that needed clarification and he would gladly teach her about said object, for he never refused an opportunity to instruct her on the ways of life. You see, he wanted her intelligence to expand to a whole different level, and then surely, most surely, he would be recognized and acknowledged by the whole of Halloween Town! Why, even Jack, The Pumpkin King would praise him for his amazing feat. Oh, how the doctor couldn't wait for Sally to become fully developed. He stared at her with a wicked twinkle in his eye, his mind painting images of praise and fame that was most often hailed to The Pumpkin King.

Indeed, the doctor could hardly wait.

Three months had passed and Sally was doing an exceptional job in her progression. Not only could she walk (with the assistance of a random wall to prop her up or a wobbly chair to stable herself), but she could now speak. Her vocabulary wasn't very large, but the doctor didn't have any qualms about that. He fully believed that she would be capable of intellectual conversation given month's time, and he was fully prepared to instruct her in the ways of casual and formal conversation.

"Master."

It was a pleasant voice, a soft and gentle one, a voice that made Dr. Finklestein cringe whenever he had the displeasure to hear it, for he did not take to sweet things. Sally never understood what made her creator cringe so, but to compensate for that, she tried her best to be a diligent and practiced pupil. She wanted to be worthy of him as his creation and she especially enjoyed when he would give the random praiseful comment to her from time to time, although they had been growing few in number over the past couple of months.

"Yes, Sally?" The doctor asked, piquing his head to look at her before he returned his focus back to his current experiment, which was trying to convert pumpkin juice into an efficient fossil fuel. "Haven't I told you not to come into the lab without my permission?"

Sally stared at him for a bit, puzzlement etched on her stitched face, trying to discern the choice of words that he had used to address her. "P-per-miss-. . .?"

The doctor sighed and grumbled a hasty, "Permission, Sally."

Sally nodded to herself and twiddled her fingers in front of her, her balance starting to waver off. She looked over at a stable looking metal chair that was propped at the far end of the room, its stability looking mighty tempting as she scanned the rest of the laboratory for any other props that would be able to support her weight. She didn't want to go near the operating tables and chairs near Dr. Finkelstein, for she feared that if she did, he would growl at her or scold her for being in the way.

She never liked it when he scolded her.

"Well then, what do you have to say for yourself?"

Sally looked and cocked her head, her fingers still twiddling out in front of her. She had absolutely no idea what to say to him. What could she say? Her sentences were shamefully fragmented and she didn't have enough time to think up of a full and proper sentence what with her creator sitting before her and giving her the quizzical eye.

"I…I…sorry," she whispered quickly, bowing her head a bit to show that she indeed felt regret at breaking one of his clearly laid out rules. The last time that she had stumbled into his laboratory without his permission he had removed one of her arms and kept it with him for half of the day, leaving her feeling confused and lost as to what she had done to deserve such punishment. But she dare not do it again. Only this time, it hadn't been her fault. Igor had told her that the doctor had wanted to see her, and by the looks of it, it seemed as if Igor had told her an outright lie.

"Tsk," Dr. Finklestein grumbled. He waved his hand at her and dismissed her. "You may leave now Sally. Go up to your room for the rest of the night. Do you understand?" She remained where she was for a couple of minutes, trying to fabricate his words to dissect their meaning, until she finally got it and quietly left the room. She gloomily trudged all the way up the stairs to her dingy tower at the top of the house.

Another five months had passed, creating a grand total of 10 months. Sally had developed into a speaking, walking, and mildly intellectual young rag doll. She was by no means the smartest person alive, but she was capable of formulating quick sentences and as of late, deep thoughts-- or as deep as she could get them to be. She could walk just fine, no longer needing the extra stability of a chair or a wall to get her along throughout the doctor's house. She was still a bit wobbly on her legs, but she supposed that was just a malfunction that wouldn't be corrected any time soon. It was a part of her, and she accepted that.

Her gentle voice was no longer impaired by short fragments and disconnected words. She could now speak fluidly and could respond on command without having to think of what she was going to say. This certainly pleased her, for she no longer had to feel embarrassed when asked a question on the spot. However, despite the amazing progression in her motor skills and things of that sort, she couldn't help but feel…what was the word? Impatient? Sally nodded to herself, piquing her head as she stared at the enormous hinged window located in her dank room.

She couldn't really pinpoint the cause of her impatience, for she didn't quite understand it to begin with. Why was it that whenever she looked over at her window, a rebellious feeling came over her and captured her very heart and soul? Sometimes, going against her creator's orders, she would go over to the window, unlatch it and push it open. She reveled in the cold and wispy breeze that always greeted her from the outside world and then all of a sudden, a lurching feeling of insurgence would overwhelm her very being and then she felt as if she wanted to jump from the very window itself!

However, to dispel her thoughts, she would look over at the badly misshapen tower that loomed ominously in the distance, with its single glowing light that illuminated from within, and she would feel calm and patient again, as if the thoughts were never even there. The tower always seemed to calm her for some strange reason, as if she were looking over at an accommodating beacon of hope. She didn't know who or what the tower belonged to, nor did she think she would ever find out, but just gazing over at its presence was enough to satisfy her on those nights where she felt restless and fidgety.

"If only I could be out there," she whispered sadly to herself, her tiny hands bunching up the bed sheets sprawled over her rickety cot. And oh, how she longed to walk amidst the grounds of Halloween Town; to roam and walk freely like a normal citizen taking in their town's view, but she knew that she couldn't.

Dr. Finklestein had told her many a time, and she always seemed to remember and repeat his monotonous lecture: "Sally, haven't we been through this already? You're a rag doll, an incomplete being, a mere creation. Halloween Town will never accept you -- it's dangerous out there. Too dangerous. I'm only keeping you in here for your own well-being. Trust me my dear, it's a phase, and like all phases, it will pass."

However, he had told her that over four months ago, and she was by no means over that so-called phase. With every rustle of a fallen leaf, with every whisper of the passing wind, Sally yearned to connect to the world outside her imprisonment. Of course, she didn't know what lay out there, she didn't even know what the blasted town looked like, but if she was ever going to roam about, she was going to have to take a gander at it sometime. There was only one thing that constantly got in the way of her freedom, and that was:

Dr. Finklestein.

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	2. The Skeleton Man

_**Please read and enjoy! I liked typing this chapter out.**_

_**Chapter 2: The Skeleton Man**_

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A couple of days had passed within the Finklestein household-- not as if Sally had noticed. She rarely cared for the time and date anymore, for it was useless for her to know anyway. Dr. Finklestein did his very best to keep poor Sally away from the "troubles" of the real world, and that meant keeping her on the down-low in the terms of time.

Sally didn't quite mind it much, for she was always doing something around the house to keep her occupied, such as spinning new cobwebs to hang about the lofty corners of the dining room until the spiders could spin their own. The doctor had said that appearances meant everything and that meant that she had to do everything in her power to make the entirety of the house look presentable, less a special guest should come.

'_Funny, no one really comes here much,' _she thought to herself, extending her arm over to the far corner of the dining room table where she quickly draped a patch of cobwebs across the edge. She shakily shuffled a few inches back, since her legs were still wonky, and admired her handy-work, a stitched smile spreading as far as it could go over her pale blue face.

She sighed to herself and cocked her head. Was sewing the only thing she was good at? By all means, she could cook a very mean meal, but the doctor often complained on how she prepared it, for she always used the strangest of ingredients that were quite unsuitable to the doctor's tastes. She always thought that she was doing right by picking the most freshest of herbs to boil in a steaming pot of water when preparing a stew, but the doctor often scolded her and told her to only get the most expired ingredients when preparing a meal, and that, thought Sally, didn't make sense to her at all.

In order to make a meal, weren't you supposed to get the most unsullied and pleasant tasting ingredients available to compliment the meal? She would often find herself searching in the cupboards for more agreeable sounding ingredients such as Rosemary or Nutmeg, but of course, being the doctor's house, she could not find any. On many an occasion, she was forced to give up and use Witch's Wart instead of the congenial Thyme.

And it still didn't make sense to her.

She tried pointing her confusion to the doctor, but he had just scolded her and told her that she was distorted in the brain and couldn't think like an average person. Was she really that abominable? Was there something horribly wrong with the make-up of her mind? Sally always found herself getting depressed and gloomy when she thought about those things. It made her feel as if something were truly wrong with her, and that thought alone never settled with her. She tried consulting the doctor's library on numerous occasions when she found herself lost or adrift, but the books never ended up helping her any for they were always based on strange topics such as "How to Cut Off the Head of a Sickened Sea Sprite" or "The Evolution of the Diseased Bat", which really only confused her more. Wasn't there anything that made sense in the doctor's home? Anything at all?

"Sally, are you finished with that stew yet?" Dr. Finklestein's gritty voice rang from somewhere up above, echoing off the walls and down the stairwell that lead to the equally as gritty basement. Sally uncorked a bottle of Toad Sprinkles and swished the sprinkles around in the bottle, hunching her shoulders as the doctor let out another cry that filtered through her ears. She looked up, expecting to see his bulbous head glide along the stone banister, but of course he wasn't there-- he was currently locked up in his lab, working on yet another experiment that she had no interest in knowing about.

She once again swirled the Toad Sprinkles around and watched as various assortments of green colored bits shook and rumbled against each other, before she shrugged her shoulders and poured a generous amount of the green stuff into the boiling cauldron set before her. An unpleasant rotting smell escaped the cauldron as fumes spiraled out like wisps of gnarled smoke. She choked back a stagnant cough and retreated from the cauldron to rummage in the cupboards for anything useful enough to gag over the horrific smell. Her eyes widened as she spotted a lonesome bottle of Frog's Breath shuttled back into the far corner of the cupboard. She reached over and stuck her tiny hands in, trying to reach the bottle, but in doing so, she accidentally bumped into a jar of Witch's Wart. The jar hurdled to the cobbled ground of the basement and shattered into a vast amount of shard-like pieces, scattering about the floor like glinting grains of sand. The liquid traveled over the ground slowly and seeped into the stones, staining them with their dreadful stench. If Sally could gag, she would most certainly have done so. She was very grateful that her insides were made up of nothing but crinkled leaves.

"What was that sound Sally?" the doctor yelled rather fiercely, his lab door shutting close. Sally's eyes widened with blatant panic as she frantically (and shakily) ran about the basement in search of a broom and a mop. Not finding either of them, Sally began to choke back unshed tears as the thought of the doctor's scolding loomed dreadfully near. She hated when he scolded her; she always felt unworthy when he did that to her, and at most times, she was. If only she could be a bit more well balanced on her feet and a bit keener in the brain, maybe then the good doctor would recognize her more and give her the praise that she most certainly yearned for.

Giving up on finding the broom and mop, Sally backed away until she was standing beside the bubbling cauldron, tiny hands folded in front of her as she waited for her creator. She could hear the mechanism of his wheel chair creaking and groaning as he rumbled down the stairwell. Finally, he reared 'round the corner and halted in his movements, his beady little eyes immediately switching over to the broken jar of Witch's Wart scattered about the ground. His thin lips pursed into a wrinkled snarl, his spaced teeth seemingly gritting against each other as his tiny and withered shoulders shook with anger.

"Although the scent is pleasing to the nose, you must clean this up Sally," the doctor grit out, trying to keep his anger from bubbling over. "Why are you just standing there, insolent girl? You know better than that! Clean up this mess this instant, before I go over there and shred you to pieces!"

Sally quickly nodded her head. "Yes, of course, of course!" The doctor sneered at her one more time, before he turned around with his wheelchair and headed back up the stairwell, the motor growing faint as he retreated farther and farther. Sally stared up at his retreating form, waiting until he was completely gone before she moved over to the glass shards. She bent down, biting at her lip, her shoulders shaking.

She truly hated being scold at.

'_Well, since there's no broom…' _she trailed off. She began picking up the bigger pieces of glass with one of her hands, piling the shards onto the other hand while she continued to pick them up one by one. Some of the smaller bits embedded into her palm, which didn't hurt her at all, and seeped into her skin. Even if it didn't cause her pain, the feeling that they left behind in her palm made her feel off kilter. She got up from the floor and carefully strode over to the cupboards, where she opened a door and gently places the glass shards on the top most shelf. She had decided that she would keep them there until she could find a proper broom and disposal can to dump them in.

Now to clean up the Witch's Wart.

She grimaced as she stared at the putrid liquid running amuck across the basement floor. She cricked her head as indecision crept upon her, until she finally let out a final sigh and shied away from the mess. She supposed that since the doctor liked foul smells like Witch's Wart, it wouldn't hurt to have it perfume the air of the basement for a little while until the smell died out. Sure, it would be most unpleasant for her, but it wouldn't harm the doctor none-- plus, she just wanted to get out of cleaning the darned mess altogether.

Bunching up her nose and trying to block out the retched smell, Sally began mixing a wooden spoon around the bubbling cauldron, green fumes spindling out and encasing her with their putrid scent. She wouldn't know if the soup would turn out right, because she wasn't going to taste it.

Sally sat at the edge of her bead, her tiny feet tracing patterns amidst the stone ground. Her head drooped and her shoulders were hunched, and once again, like many a night, she was feeling agitated.

She often asked herself, angrily might she add, why she was constantly bombarded with all these thoughts of escape and freedom and what not. Why should she be feeling these things at all? Her creator had slaved over his equipment and equations trying to build her and bring her to life, and what does she give in return? Her undying gratitude and loyalty?

Sally huffed, gouging her fingernails into her cot. She wished she could give him loyalty and gratitude as freely as he would have wanted it-- she truly wished that she could be an obedient and responsive little creation towards her master, like a good little rag doll, but as more time elapsed, she constantly found herself on the brink of uncertainty.

Disobeying her masters orders, Sally quickly sprung from her bead (almost toppling over to the ground at the sudden movement) and unsteadily walked over towards her enormous window. She stood in front of it, staring up at the glowing yellow moon that hung over the sky like a giant beacon of light. She wasn't sure if she should open the window or not, for she feared that if she did so, the doctor would unexpectedly wander into her room and catch her in the act. After a few minutes worth of indecision, the sense of freedom overcame her very own will, and then her mind was set. She scooted closer to the window and unlatched it, jumping back as the window swung from its hinges and stood open like a welcoming embrace.

Sally's eyes grew even wider than usual, her eyelashes fluttering as she blinked numerous times. Even though she often did this at times when she felt bored or flustered, she really never could get over that feeling of exhilaration whenever she felt that tantalizing breeze brushing across her skin. She walked closer to the rim of the window, hesitantly jutting out her elbows and placing them on the metal window frame. She leaned in, her body supported by the window frame and the wall, and basked in the moonlight, her eyes eagerly wandering and roaming as she took in the sight of the night world surrounding her.

It was magical to her, in an odd sense though. She couldn't quite get the beauty from the gnarled and bare trees that dotted the outside like blotches on a painting, nor did she understand why they were still there in the first place, but it was a part of the world outside Dr. Finklestein's dome, so they must serve some fantastic purpose. Just like any normal night, the atmosphere was practically rotting with gloom and obscurity, the ground swirling with gray and purple mist-- the moon was the only bright thing out there. It was strapping, vibrant, and it tickled her very being to know that there was something out there so beautiful that it could shine so magnificently and hang up in the sky so that everyone could get a chance to marvel at it- even a worthless rag doll such as her.

She smiled up at it, tracing invisible patterns about the air with her finger. She stared across at the misshapen tower hanging about like a rusty nail disembarking from a wall. That single, yellow light was on again, shining with full force so that the tower literally glowed amidst the backdrop of its surroundings. She yearned to know who lived there, what lived there, if there was anyone that lived there, and why the light was only turned on during the night when the rest of the world should be sleeping. Whoever did live there, presuming that the tower was occupied, Sally's heart reached out to them. She could sympathize because just like the being in the tower, she too could not sleep very well. Her thoughts were too restless at night, and they sometimes seemed to suffocate her mind, which wasn't very pleasant at all.

"I am hopeless," she whispered to herself, sorrow lacing her voice. She often felt like that because she knew that staring out her window was the closest she was going to get in feeling a breeze brush across her skin, or taking in the sights of the towers and oddly shaped buildings of the town that stood straight across from her. She didn't even know the town's name, which was a downright shame, since Dr. Finklestein never answered her questions any longer. When she was still fresh and new, he would gladly answer any little thing that spiked her curiosity, but now…he only got angry with her whenever she asked about something new concerning the town. It was almost as if he were actually trying to keep her in the dark about it.

"But I want to be free!" she spoke aloud, pressing into the window frame, leering her head out the window. "I want to be out there. I need to be out there." She was looking at the tower in the distance, her eyes mesmerized on that single spot. She inched further, the upper part of her body sticking out the window like a rigid tree branch.

"I am so close, yet so very far away," she whispered to the wind, and at that very same moment, as if the wind had listened to her plea and responded, a breeze racked through her body and made her lose her stability.

She could feel it, that sense of panic surging from within her until it coiled and sprang. She was tipping over, the top part of her body gradually sliding forward until she was nearly out the window entirely. She gasped, her tiny feet wriggling in the air, but they were too small to support her. She kept sliding and sliding, until she could no longer feel the support from the window frame, or anything at all.

Her eyes were wide, the first shock of perpetual fear clinging to her body like a cat's sharpened claws as the ground grew nearer. She closed her eyes, too afraid to open them, until she felt herself smack with a sickening thud against the leaf littered earth. She could hear the ripping of her limbs and she could feel her stitches coming apart with a quickness that seemed strange to her. Surely she still had some stitches left?

So she laid there, her face facing the moon, eyes now wide open as she stared at the looming world around her. Despite her death-defying fall, she could feel the electric tingle of excitement coursing through her. If she could hyperventilate, she would have surely done so, but she was far too thrilled to do anything of the sort. The gnarled trees were much larger than she knew them to be. They practically soared into the sky in a mixture of twisted limbs and contorted bark.

'They're so tall,' she wondered to herself, still amazed by their length. Actually, everything seemed as if it were larger than life and she just simply couldn't get enough of it. She drank everything in, from the moon above to the outside appearance of Dr. Finklestein's home. She never knew that it looked like that from the outside and she was amazed that it even looked that way.

'_I need to get up, I need to look at everything,' _she thought to herself. However, she found that she couldn't move-- at all. She looked down at herself and gasped, her mouth hanging open like a window. Her limbs, her feet and both her arms, were scattered about the ground, surrounded by their own cushioning of leaves. Her head was still connected to her torso, which was a fortunate case for her, but now she couldn't even move! She didn't even have any sewing supplies with her to mend her injuries!

She felt as if she should cry, and she would have, given if it were any other situation. She was still feeling that surge of excitement from before which quelled her mortification at seeing her limbs strewn about the ground like worthless twigs.

'_Oh dear, how am I going to pull myself together?_' she asked herself morosely. She wasn't prepared for any of this, not even being out here in the open, which was a dream that she had pined for ever since her mind could form dreams.

A crunch in the distance.

And the rustles of leaves nearby.

Oh, it scared Sally so, for she was equally not arranged to meet anyone yet. She could see her limbs twitching along with the apprehension she was feeling. She stared up at the sky, awaiting her fate as dense clouds began forming from above.

"What a pity."

She refrained was gasping this time and quickly jerked her head. She stared off into the distance, her eyes practically gluing to the form of a tall, thin figure currently walking across the earth towards the doctor's place. As he grew near, the panic within her sky rocketed as she viewed the details pertaining to the strange figure.

He was certainly tall, with the skinniest legs and arms and an equally thin waist. Sporting an old-fashioned pinstripe suit, and a black bowtie that was placed at the base of his neck, she saw that he wasn't like anything that she could ever imagine. The only people she could compare him to would be the doctor and Igor, since they were the only people that she knew, but him…that creature, walking very idly with a somber expression gracing that skeletal head of his, he was out of the ordinary.

"A skeleton," she answered herself. Thankfully, she knew what a skeleton was, since the doctor had taught her about the inner workings of a regular body, but she always thought a skeleton was supposed to be along the inside of a body, not the outside. This truly confused her and she didn't know what to think anymore. It was truly bizarre how his skeletal face could contort into a vast array of expressions that flitted across his face, however somber they were. All the while she was watching him; she could make out the look of sadness, annoyance, anger, exasperation, and all those other kinds of feelings that splashed across his face like water.

And then she felt bad for him. She couldn't help it. He seemed so sad, so lonely. From the way he was walking, to the way his expressions changed, she couldn't help but feel for him.

"He looks like I do when I want to go outside," she whispered to herself, lidding her eyes. What could have caused that poor, thin creature to feel so downright horrible? Lost in her musings, she didn't notice when a shadow fell upon her, and then, as she screamed within her mind, she looked up.

The creature. The skeleton man was standing close to her on a dirt path, his head tilted up to the sky, his eye sockets squinting in thought. He was staring at the moon.

"What a pity, the moon," he said softly, holding a bony hand to his hip while the other dangled by his side. Sally tried to be as perfectly still as possible, less he notice her, for he hadn't. She didn't want him to notice her anyway, not in the state that she was in. As if her wish were granted, the skeleton man slowly walked away, heading back towards the town with his head still perked to the sky. Grief filled Sally as he left; she too stared up at the moon. It was nearly covered by the swirling gray clouds that twirled about in the air, blocking its beauty from the world.

"What a pity," she repeated, closing her eyes.

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	3. Planning

She didn't know how much time had passed, nor did she really care, but judging by the position of the vibrant moon, only a couple of hours had passed.

It wasn't terribly boring for her, even though it should have been, but it seemed as if her mind were somewhere else. She couldn't help but stare at that full and hearty moon still hanging about the sky and glowing magnificently as glittering stars shimmered their intense light across the night. Everything seemed so new to her and she couldn't help but drink everything in. If she could, she would have remained there forever just soaking in everything.

"I don't think it's possible to get tired of this," she whispered to herself, her enormous eyelids blinking. The dampness from the ground was starting to seep into her fabricated body, making her feel uncomfortable and shifty. As she piqued her head, she could still see the rest of her limbs twitching along with her thoughts, but she couldn't control them beyond that. If only she could get one of her arms to scurry on over…

'_Oh, but I didn't bring a needle and thread_,' she thought dismally, a stitched frown etching across her face. That thought alone was enough to deter her for a moment, but once she looked up and stared at the liberty-laden moon, all her woes and worries quickly melted away like butter on freshly baked bread.

The wind swirled and howled, brushing across her face and caressing her body like ghostly hands. She smiled, reveling in the feeling, until the moment passed and she was once again left to stare up at the sky and the remaining expanse of the world surrounding her, or at least what she could make of it from her wayward position on the ground.

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Another set of time passed, probably another hour or so, but Sally was already starting to feel the drowsy effects caused by lack of sleep. She fought to keep her eyes open, for they were beginning to get a bit heavy for her, as if sand grains were suddenly weighing down her eyelids.

'_Must keep awake_,' she chanted to herself. She couldn't succumb to sleep and miss her first full outing into the world, not as she lay on the earth that she had never gotten to touch before, or view the fullness of the moon that she had never gotten to see close up without a window marring her view.

"Sally!"

She immediately pried her eyes open, beady eyes shifting about in the darkness. She knew the voice, she knew who it belonged to and she was so stricken with panic and fear that she was starting to search her surroundings for the voice until she finally realized that the voice had not come from ground level, but from somewhere up above.

She looked up and blinked, surprised to find that the light in her room was blaring out her open window. It was a funny thing, because she had not left the light on.

"Ohh, that wretched, ghastly girl!" Dr. Finklestein growled from above. His irritated voice reverberated off the walls and leaked out through the open window, spiraling downward until it ringed an unpleasant noise in Sally's ears. She winced a bit, pursing her lips at his voice. It was very unfortunate that he was in a cantankerous mood. She had never escaped from him before, and although she hadn't technically tried to run away from him, she still felt some kind of guilt welling within her insides. She sighed to herself, her expression boarding a melancholy stature.

'_He won't believe me if I told him that I merely fell out the window, he won't believe me one bit,' _she thought gloomily to herself. She watched as her arm, still detached and writhing every once in a while, thrummed its fingers along the earth.

"Igor, you hulking fool, come here," the doctor called out from up above. His voice was so loud that all Sally could do was hold her breath. A few minutes past, where silence engulfed her entire being, save for the random kinks and clanks the doctor's chair made because of it being tremendously ancient. And then, muffled footsteps and drained breathing permeated the air; Sally couldn't help but blink in surprise, for she had never known Igor to be so loud.

'_He probably had to waddle all the way up there,' she pondered, tilting her head. _

"Igor, I want you to sniff her out," Dr. Finklestein commanded, his chair whirring and spurring as the sounds of his mechanical wheel chair grew faint until they dulled out altogether. Sally couldn't hear anything anymore, not a voice nor a whisper.

That is, until she let out a terrifying gasp.

Igor's distorted head peeked out from her window, staring down at her with a hideous smile to his drooling lips. He clasped his hands, fidgeting his grubby fingers at his unexpected find. By the looks of it, what with that eager twinkle to his eyes and the sour expression on his face, Sally knew that his first priority was to indeed, tell the doctor.

'_No, no!' she mouthed to him, hoping grimly that he would comply to her wishes just this once, but alas, his smirk only grew and before she knew it his head had whipped back into her room and he was gone from her field of vision like evaporating water. _

"Master! Master!" she heard him croon from above, his garbled voice causing her to shudder inwardly. She never really took to his voice, being that he always sounded like he had a wad of phlegm stuck down his throat, and it didn't help much that he was probably screaming her name about the night air.

After a few suspenseful minutes, Sally could hear the inevitable sound of the doctor's wheelchair moaning and groaning as it rolled across Sally's bedroom floor. The mechanics of the chair finally whirred and fizzed out until Sally could hear no more.

"What is it, you bumbling fool?" the doctor's voice croaked, annoyance lacing his tone like a frilly dress. "If you called me up here for nothing, I'll--."

"But Master, I found her! I did, I found her!" Igor chirped, rather unpleasantly. Sally winced a couple of times, her insides shivering at the sound of his throaty voice. If sound alone could kill…

"You found her? Well then, don't just stand there like a hulking idiot, where is she?" the doctor commanded abruptly. Sally could already picture his beady eyes roaming about her room with unnerving stealth, his withered neck stretching this way and that as he searched. She could already tell that this wasn't going to go well at all, not in the least.

"She's outside, on the floor. She's broken on the floor!" Igor exclaimed excitedly. Sally could hear his wayward feet pouncing up and down about her bedroom floor, obviously over-delighted.

"Broken?! Oh, that wretched thing, she's already gone and broken herself has she?" Dr. Finklestein growled viciously. "Where is she now Igor, tell me!"

"Outside the window, the window! She's on the ground!"

Sally could once again hear the rumble and tumble of the doctor's wheelchair as he glided over the expanse of her bedroom to her open window. Then, he stopped, clearing his throat before he bellowed,

"Sally, you vile thing. If you can hear me, then you've got a lot of nerve! Escaping so crudely, why, I ought to just leave you down there amongst your broken limbs. Actually, that is exactly what I'll do! You need to be taught a lesson. You shall remain down there for the rest of the night and throughout the day. Igor, shut the window."

Sally's eyes widened, her eyelashes fluttering with her bewilderment. Was the doctor really going to just leave her out there to fend for herself, while her limbs were broken off in every direction and without even a needle and a spool of thread to stitch herself back together?

'_Oh, this is terrible!_' she thought to herself, dread clouding her mind. How utterly boring it would be to remain there on the floor with nothing to do but observe her detached limbs squirming as they lay strewn about the floor. Of course, it wouldn't be terribly boring since she would have the whole night sky to look at, but boring nonetheless.

With a heavy cloud of gloom hovering over her, she watched as Igor slowly shut her wide window until she heard it latch with a soft click. She frowned, shutting her eyes and heaved out a heavy sigh. It wasn't even her fault that she was down here! Well, technically it was, for she shouldn't have been hanging out the window like she had, but how could she have known she was going to slip? It was an unfortunate accident, that's all it was. A highly unfortunate accident.

* * *

More hours had passed in which Sally didn't count. She winced her eyes as the morning Pumpkin Sun awoke from its slumber and slung itself above in the sky, it's jack-o-lantern smile wide and eerie. Sally had to shake her head a few times to get used to the glare of the sun's rays, but in a matter of seconds she had already adjusted to the warming light and made no attempt to get away from it.

"It's barely early morning," Sally whispered to herself, looking lamely at her detached limbs. How long could she go being separated from them? It was an uncomfortable situation; never had she been disconnected from her limbs this long. "And I still have the rest of the day."

Sally widened her eyes and stiffened her shoulders as she heard an audible crunching sound come from somewhere in the distance. It was faint and seemed to be fairly far away, but it was a movement from someone other than herself. She blinked her eyes and closed her mouth, training her ears for any possible sound that might slip into the morning air.

_Crunch. _

There, she had heard it again! And this time it was definitely closer than before. Sally dared to lift her head out of curiosity and fervor, her mind and body itching for a taste of the unfamiliar, however what she saw looming out in the distance, tall and stark and irrefutably skeletal, made her fictitious heart palpitate and the rest of her disembodied limbs jerk in exhilaration.

'_The skeleton man!' _she thought with wonder, her enormous eyes lighting up with interest that outmatched any previous curiosity. She watched him fervently as his lofty figure glided amongst the gnarled trees and uneven earth, his countenance radiating an ethereal glow as the morning mist encompassed his very being. His long spidery legs created a path amidst the ground, a path so patterned and intricate that no other would have been able to follow in his footsteps.

As he continued his ornate walk, Sally noticed that he was drawing closer and closer. Oh, and how panicked she got. What if he should happen to see her all strewn about the floor in a heap of detached limbs and rumpled leaves, what would he think of her then? Surely, a person as elegant as he would merely scoff at her for being so inappropriately presented.

'_I don't want my first meeting with him to be like this_,' she thought to herself, however she couldn't fathom why she would feel embarrassed in front of him. She had never met him before, and he had not even seen her to begin with! The doctor always told her that first impressions were important and were not to be taken so lightly, so how was she supposed to live up to a first impression in the ghastly state she was in?

She immediately tucked away her rambling thoughts as the skeleton man's figure drew nearer, his elongated limbs swishing to and fro as a contemplative expression emerged on his charmingly gaunt face. She watched as his eye sockets drew together in thought and how his skeletal mouth pursed into a thin, straight line. Whatever he was thinking about must have been truly arduous to make him look so bothered.

Sally was beginning to think that this strange creature had no room for a smile, for she would have liked to see one on him. Earlier when she had first seen him, when the moon had still been out, the skeleton man also had that puzzling expression strewn haphazardly about his face, and it was no different from the one he had on now. What was troubling him, and what was he doing out so early in the morning?

"Oh!" Sally gasped quietly when his tiny feet made imprints on the earth beside her. He was practically right next to her and all she could do was stare up at him in wonderment, silently hoping that he would overlook her and continue on his gloomy way. Her pleads were answered when he merely walked past her, his shoulders hunched in thought and his round head pointed to the sky.

For some strange reason she was disheartened at his appearance, even though he would be nothing more but a silent stranger to her. Would she ever come to know this somber looking creature, or would she merely remain unnoticed as a silent spectator?

"Depressing," she said aloud. She widened her eyes and bit at her lip, silently reprimanding herself. How could she have been so careless as to let a sound escape her mouth?

Cricking her head, she managed to catch a glimpse of him. He had halted in his movements, his white, round head had perked up and his pitted eyes were wide and probing. His slender arms were clasped at his back, his shoulders sharp and taught as his eye sockets roamed around, passing over gnarled trees, and even more gnarled trees. It seemed to him that all he could see were gnarled trees, which somehow didn't sit quite well with him.

Funny, for he had never thought such before. Years ago, before any thoughts of variation and conversion filtered his mind and forced his way of thinking into a more novel direction, he had been content, even more so. He had never thought twice about the gnarled trees or the gloomy atmosphere of the town, the town that he ruled with a mighty skeletal fist-- after all, he was the Pumpkin King. So what if Halloween was all that he had looked forward to every single year; the same preparations, the same festivities, the same old Jack Skellington.

"Depressing," he whispered to the wind. He straightened himself, his former expression of solemnity replacing the moment of conjecture that flitted across his face for a fraction of a second. He had heard something, he didn't know what, but he had. He stared at Dr. Finklestein's looming home, its cobbled walls dark and gritty and the overall atmosphere portentous. He shook his head and turned back round, large eye sockets gazing at the early Pumpkin Sun. He continued walking, his steps graceful and meticulous.

Sally watched him go, her heart suddenly heavy. When he had looked her way, not actually looking at her mind you, but past her (for he had not noticed her presence) she could clearly see his face, pained with some kind of troublesome burden. What was he thinking, she had thought. She closed her eyes and sighed, laying her head back down to the ground. She looked up once more at the glowing Pumpkin sun, her tiny mouth transforming into a frown.

Indeed, how depressing.

* * *

An hour later, or what felt like an hour to Sally, a light of hope sparked within her and her excitement doubled.

"Oh darn, we missed him!"

"I guess he does his morning rounds earlier that we thought."

Two nasally, garbled voices sounded out from a distance, making Sally inwardly cringe at what seemed to be female voices, but she was glad nonetheless that they were people she had never met before. Perhaps she could try calling out for help…

Once that they had gotten close enough for Sally to quietly observe, she couldn't help but drop her mouth in astonishment. There were two of them, as mentioned before, one being taller and lankier than the other. They both had extremely bulbous noses with all sorts of warts and blemishes covering them, their skin as equally as frightening. They talked to each other in whispers, their gnarled teeth thrashing together and their stringy hair flowing along with their head gestures.

Sally then noticed that they were wearing very long, pointed black hats that sat atop their heads like looming spires. If she didn't know any better, she would have guessed they were witches, for she had briefly read about them in Dr. Finkelstein's Ghoulipedia. So, mustering all her courage together and properly wetting her lips, Sally winced and cried out,

"Please, help me!"

The two witches stopped in their tracks, their beady eyes roaming.

"Who said that?" the taller witch cried out, thwacking the end of her broom to the dusty ground.

"Please, I need some help!" Sally cried out again. "I'm over here, watch for my arm!"

Sally then concentrated and shut her eyes, willing her arm to move so they could spot it and hopefully come over to help her. Thankfully, her detached arm responded to her wishes and raised itself for a fleeting moment, before it dropped back down to its lifeless position.

The two witches hunched their shoulders and brought their brooms under them, swiftly hopping on to them before they glided through the air towards the detached limb. In a matter of seconds, Sally was staring up as the two witches hovered above her with their stringy brooms, their twisted smiles and beady eyes showing all of their amusement at the sight of a helpless being-- a being unknown to them.

"Oh ho, and what are you doing down there my pretty?" the short witch squawked, her wicked grin spreading across her face.

"We haven't see you around here before," the other observed, a bushy eyebrow lifting along with her unveiled curiosity. "Why are you all chopped up? Did you get in a fight?"

Both witches laughed at the uncanny joke, and Sally was only able to stare up at them listlessly while their mirth grew and grew. If she could blush she would have, but she couldn't, so instead she turned her head away and blinked.

"Might any of you have a needle and a spool of thread?" Sally asked wearily. The two witches looked at each other and shook their distorted heads, their scraggly hair flying this way and that.

"Sorry, but we don't have anything of the sort," the shorter witch stated, shaking her head once again.

"And, we really should be going now, we have no time to waste," the taller one cut in, positioning her broom underneath her so that it pointed towards the town looming in the distance. "Bye girl."

"Wait, please, no! I just need some--…"

Sally stared after their retreating forms as they soared away from her, their figures growing faint as they high-tailed it out of there. She frowned and shut her eyes in disbelief-- so much for the help. She hadn't known they would be so callous as to just leave her there on the floor. If this is how the people of the town behaved, then she didn't even want to meet another.

"Except for the skeleton man," she whispered to herself.

* * *

Sally was sitting on the bed in her room, her tiny feet dangling in the air as she tested out her freshly sewn limbs. Fortunately, the doctor had not lived up to his previous threat and had Igor haul her torso and the rest of her body parts up to his lab, where the doctor immediately began to reattach her arms and legs. He had merely explained to her that if he had left her down there all day, there would be no one to prepare his lunch and dinner for him, since he had already skipped out on breakfast.

She had to smile at him when he had told that to her, for she was as giddy as a butterfly in flight; thank goodness she didn't have to spend the whole day lying about that earthen ground-- she would have lost her sanity if she had.

She got up from the bed and trotted over towards a chair that was placed haphazardly alongside one of the walls. On the chair were various scraps of fabric, accompanied with a black spool of thread and a sharp sewing needle. She had already prepared the doctor's lunch, which had been a broth of Ghoul Flakes and Witch Hazel, with a dash of Witch's and Worm's Wart. She would never fully understand why the doctor preferred Witch's Wart in his foods, let alone Worm's Wart.

And now, as she had nothing to do, she gathered the fabric, thread, and needle off the chair and padded over to her bed, where she gently placed the materials atop the cot and sat herself down. Since she had nothing better to do, she would simply have to sew her boredom away.

"At least it allows me time to improve," she muttered to herself, and with that, she gathered two pieces of fabric from the heap of material, along with her thread and needle, and began stitching them together.

* * *

The daylight hours had turned into full-fledged night, and by this time, Sally was already in the dining room, serving a heaping bowl of stew to the doctor as he sat eagerly in his wheelchair, his greedy eyes awaiting the meal set before him. He immediately grabbed for his spoon and swiped it into the soup, shoveling the broth into his mouth with a speed far too advanced for his age. Sally merely smiled and shied away without the doctor noticing, for he was too engrossed with the stew to care about anything else.

Sally twirled around and began to tiptoe away, her legs still a bit wobbly and her balance too off kilter for her to be completely soundless. Just as she was about to round the door leading from the dining area, she heard the doctor's driveling voice sound from behind her, his tone clearly condescending.

"Sally, don't do anything I wouldn't do, you hear?" he warned sternly, before taking another heaping spoonful out of his soup. She grimaced as she could hear his tongue lapping away at the broth, sloshing noises protruding from his mouth as he continued away at his hot meal.

"Yes," she merely replied, slipping out the dining area towards the spiraling staircase leading to her room. Just as she was about to set foot on the first step of the stairs, a fluttering smile brushed across her lips as she looked skywards. She had a plan formulating in her mind, a most devious plan that required the utmost concentration and focus.

'_And no_', she thought mirthfully, shaking her head vigorously.

This time, it was not sewing.

* * *

Sally sat on her bed, her legs swinging back and forth as she twiddled with her tiny fingers in her lap, clearly anxious. She looked beyond her latched window, watching as the setting Pumpkin Sun withdrew from its day's work and retreated into the barren hills off in the distance. It was nearing night, and Sally still had much to do.

Over the course of the week, she had been acting upon a fleeting thought, which had soon blossomed into a cunning plan that she had then labeled full proof.

You see, tonight, Sally was to escape.

Again.

And now, as she sat there mulling over her thoughts, the anxiety steadily building up until she thought she would explode from the excitement of it all, she had to wait.

For most people, it was a fairly simple thing to do, but for Sally, it was the most arduous and grueling thing to wait for.

'_Alright, I already have my supplies_,' she thought to herself, mentally checking off the list of materials she had managed to scrounge up for her devious plan of escape. '_I have the rope, the thread and needle, the pick-lock... __**the pick-lock!**_'

Sally mentally kicked herself before she swiftly jumped off her make-shift cot and knelt down by her mattress, shifting the hulking thing until she managed to grab it with her arms and flip it over. Out spilled her improvised rope made up of various scraps of sturdy fabric she had sewn together, along with her spare needle and spool of black thread.

'_Now for the pick-lock_,' she hummed, inching her scrawny hands to the underside of the mattress. She grimaced as her hands roamed over the pitted and shredded belly of the mattress, brushing past random pits and holes filled with rotten things that she cared not to identify. Finally, spotting a wiry spring jutting out from a punctured rip, Sally quickly placed her fingers on the spring and twisted and kinked it until a lengthy strip of metal snapped off with a clean break. She placed the spring atop her pile of supplies and proceeded to turn the mattress over before she heard the doctor's nasally command of,

"Lights out Sally!"

After setting her mattress and positioning it until it looked like it had before she had turned it over, Sally quickly scurried across the room and flicked off the light, bathing her entire room in dank darkness.

**Please review!**


	4. The Escape

**- I am so, so, so, so, sooooo sorry for not updating this in FOREVER. Like, fuck. Woah. Since Halloween just passed, I was in the spirit to continue writing this, and so, here it is.**

**- Again, I apologize for my blatant procrastination.**

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* * *

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**Chapter 4**

Long after the night had seeped in through the mottled glass of her bedroom window, and long after she heard the doctor's boisterous snores even out into a fixed rhythm, Sally pried herself from her cot and threw her legs over the edge of her mattress. On wobbly legs, Sally managed to fumble her tiny hands under the bulging lump of deteriorated feathers and fabric that made up her pillow. She groped around in the dark for the rest of her supplies, accidentally pricking herself when her fingers roamed over the sharp jut of her sewing needle. Threading the needle through her hair, she quickly gathered the rest of her supplies and set them at the center of her cot.

She stood there before her bed, slightly unsteady on her feet, her fingers fiddling with themselves as she habitually bit at her lip. If this didn't work the way it was supposed to, she was in for a torturous punishment. She hoped Igor didn't decide to roam about in the dead of night, as he was prone to do, and accidentally discover her. If he managed to catch her in the act, she was surely done for!

With dread and uncertainty clouding her mind, Sally promptly steeled herself and forced her head towards the direction of her latched window. She stared at the moon that hung loftily about in the blackened sky, it's pallid surface glowing an ominous white—the moon was a beacon of hope, despite its dreary appearance, a hope that she couldn't waste- no, not when she was this determined. And farther out into the distance, her gaze anchored on the spindly tower looming over the cluster of gritty buildings that surrounded it.

The light was still on, as it should, and Sally let a small smile consume her lips. With a huff of determination, Sally reached for her supplies and set to work.

She hobbled over to her window and carefully unlatched it, guiding the hulking frame until it stood propped open, a gust of frigid air gliding in and caressing her course skin. Grabbing for her makeshift rope, Sally carefully guided it to a protruding screw and looped the rope around it, effectively tying it in place. She threw the rest of the rope out the window and poked her head out, watching the fabric fall until it dangled a mere two feet from the ground. Nodding her head, Sally meandered back to her cot and scooped up her spool of thread and picklock, placing it in a small pocket made from one of the many patches that decorated her dress. With the rest of her supplies accounted for, Sally swiftly turned around and shuffled back towards the window.

She placed her small hands at the window's ledge, her body leaning forward, as another gust of wind coiled about her face and fluttered her hair. She stared across into the distance, eyes trailing over the blackened skyline of the city's buildings, desire worming its way within her.

This, she concluded, was well worth it.

* * *

Sally lay on the ground, her back pressed against the earth as she stared up into the sky, a swell of elation quickly clouding her mind.

Not to say that her escape hadn't gone off without a hitch, although it almost had. Unfortunately, when she was halfway down the rope, her tiny hands couldn't support her weight any longer and she plummeted to the floor. This time however, she was prepared to sow her legs back into place. With a quickness that astounded even her, Sally pulled herself along the compact earth with her arms and groped around the darkness for her legs. Pulling them to her, Sally then shuffled her fingers through her hair and withdrew her needle, sticking it into her leg as she rummaged through her dress pocket for the spool of thread. Looping the blackened thread through the loophole, Sally set to work on threading her legs back together.

After a few moments of seamlessly threading the needle in and out through her legs, Sally finally pulled tightly at the thread and made a small knot, biting at the string until it snapped off. She put her supplies away and stared down at her feet with amazement, wiggling them for good measure. Everything seemed to be in place, and for that, she was grateful.

Sally took a deep breath and slowly got up from the ground, still a bit unsteady on her limbs, but she managed to right herself until she could stand without fault. She stared about her, eyes wide in amazement. The gnarled trees plotted on either side of her loomed into the sky and towered above her form, twisted branches sticking out from every which way. Sally smiled, noticing she was directly beneath the light of the moon as it illuminated her figure.

She stared off into the distance, the wind caressing her body, as she stared in anticipation at the city skyline. She felt like running towards it, felt like sprinting toward the city that held so many promises, so many new adventures, and just thinking about the prospect of it all nearly made her do exactly that, until she remembered that her feet weren't quite suited to run a marathon. She frowned down at her feet and slowly shook her head, before she looked up again and smiled.

She felt free; this was a sort of freedom that would have never been granted to her under the watchful eye of the doctor, and though she felt rebellious at the moment, Sally wanted to take things slow and soak in everything around her.

Sliding a glance towards the doctor's home, Sally took a breath and trotted along the grassy earth, her feet sinking into the occasional patch of mud and dirt. She wobbled along, her hair fluttering behind her and her legs very shaky, however despite being so unsure of herself, Sally never felt more alive.

More rotted trees popped up alongside her, and Sally couldn't help but smile up at them, glad to know there were even trees out here, despite their mottled appearance. The wind whispered through the branches and the moonlight danced along the ground, alighting patches of dewy grass and flickering across her stitched face. The cold didn't effect her, she wouldn't let it effect her, and as she hummed while traipsing over the land, her arms sashaying by her sides, Sally wondered where she would venture to first.

She halted in her steps and stared across at the town once again, so much closer than it had been before, and off to the side, emerged the crooked tower with the single light, standing stark against the town's outline. Should she visit the tower, or the rest of the town first? It was a difficult decision to make; for one, the excitement the town promised made her all the more eager to plunder and explore it, and on the other hand, that looming tower resonated with her heart, even though she didn't quite have one—it was a figurative heart, nonetheless. The tower had been the inspiration for her little nightly escapade, it had been the motivation she needed to muster up the courage and bravado to actually enact her plan, and in a way, the tower had been her single friend, silently encouraging her from afar, always there regardless of it's distance.

"I wonder if I'll meet the Skeleton Man tonight," she wondered aloud, hope alighting within her. Even though she felt she couldn't actually handle an encounter with him so soon, she still hoped to perhaps catch a glimpse of him, even if he didn't notice her. Such a thought didn't sit well with her and she frowned, staring up at the moon one final time before drawing a breathy sigh.

If he never noticed her, then so be it. The Skeleton Man was a fascinating being—she had spent most of her free time fantasizing about him, dreaming up scenarios where she would accidentally stumble into him and he would catch her from falling, and then they'd introduce themselves and become merry friends, and…those were just pure fantasies, nothing more. He was a regal being, a bit troubled from what she could tell, but somehow he emanated an aura that was quite intimidating, as if no one could quite penetrate his stature. Perhaps she was thinking too much into things, yet Sally couldn't help but let her thoughts stray towards the skeletal figure she had only encountered those two, measly instances.

She hoped there would be more in the not so distant future.

With her mind set, Sally meandered on.

* * *

She trotted across the cobble-lined streets, her tiny feet making small clipping sounds that echoed beyond her. Stone walls stood erect on either side of her, their hulking forms adding to the gloom. The cobbled stones beneath her feet were gray, and the walls surrounding her were gray, and it seemed that everything in her line of sight was shaded that same, monotonous grayish hue, however as she walked further along, a spot of color added to the dreary spell.

Bright orange pumpkins lined the cobbled road, glowing designs and spooky faces carved into their fronts, and as she trotted past them, they smiled at her, missing teeth and all. A tingly pool of warmth situated within her belly and suddenly, she felt humble.

Sally stared about her in wonder, her mouth agape and her eyes wide and quivering as she took in the sights of the Town Square, or what she assumed was their Town Square, either way, it looked to be a place where townspeople might congregate. She wasn't surprised to find the streets hollow and void of life, given the time of night, and for the most part she rather liked it that way—she wasn't sure if she was ready to meet new people yet. So lost in her musings, she accidentally stumbled into an intricately designed spider web, the silver tendrils looping through her hair and cascading across her face. She hurriedly disentangled herself from the silken strands and noticed a lone spider resting on her arm. Carefully, she scooped the tiny thing into the palm of her hand and set it on the stone wall beside her.

"There, little one," she whispered to it, smiling as it scurried away into the night.

As she continued forth, mist and fog trekked across the atmosphere, coiling about her skin and making it damp. She felt heavier as she hobbled along the road, momentarily seeking support from a nearby stonewall that had wooden signs plastered to it- she silently cursed the doctor for making her skin so susceptible to trivial things such as the weather.

She scuffled along the Town Square, mesmerized as she trotted past a deformed fountain that spewed a corrosive green substance. She grimaced at it as she walked by, and in the next second, she let out a small shriek when a loud noise sounded from beside her.

Spooked, she wearily turned to the side and stared up at a massive wooden structure, a hefty blade situated at the bottom—she assumed the blade had dropped from the very top of the mechanism and had crashed to the ground. She had never seen such a contraption before and she could only guess at what it was used for.

Sally shivered.

As she moved further along, leaving the small Square altogether, Sally noticed with a steadily growing sense of awe that more and more buildings began popping up alongside her, the structures towering into the night, and Sally couldn't help but suppress a shudder. She noted that there were only a few lights on within the buildings themselves, and she was grateful there weren't any stragglers staying up into the wee hours of the night.

Seconds passed into minutes, and Sally was still traipsing about in the dark, soundly guiding herself along by the moonlight and the occasional flickering pumpkin. She peered into the distance and squinted her eyes, making out the shape of a gangly pole with dingy wooden signs tacked to it. When she got to the post, Sally stood in front of it and silently inspected the words scrawled haphazardly along each sign. One read Mayor's Office and it pointed East, while another read Town Hall, pointing in the opposite direction, and when she came upon the sign tacked to the highest point of the post, Sally immediately stood to attention.

The sign wasn't wooden; that she noticed immediately, and was embossed in an elegant orange cursive that was slated across a polished silver placard.

"Pumpkin King," she breathed, her whisper dying in the wind.

She stood there before the crooked post, her head tilted loftily to the side—who would want to be a king of pumpkins? It didn't sound very kingly; the fairy tales she glimpsed at in the doctor's library painted a very different picture, one of lace and thrones and glittering crowns, and not of pumpkins. She puckered her lips and furrowed her brow—whomever this Pumpkin King was, by the looks of it, he seemed to be highly revered by the townspeople, if his elaborate placard didn't point that out already.

Sally sighed and made her decision.

The placard had pointed North, and really, Sally was too intrigued to give up such a tempting quest. And so, the timid little rag doll turned round and trekked North, oblivious to the looming tower that forked out into the distance, the same direction in which she was heading.

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**- Please leave a review if you can, they're very much appreciated and they inspire me to write more often instead of procrastinating, which is the norm for me! :D**


	5. Meeting

**A/N: Okay, so I went to Disneyland this weekend, and since Halloween just passed and it's Christmas time over there, I just had to visit the Haunted Mansion, where they totally re-decorate it and turn it into TNBC land. Whenever it's Christmas time at D-Land, I always have to go to the Haunted Mansion. It's a TNBC fan's must-see, and so, I was inspired even more to type this chapter out! Seeing that gigantic Jack animatron in his Christmas suit….ffffff…gave me the goosebumps, good goosebumps. TNBC makes so much money during this time of year, not even kidding. People decked out in all kinds of Jack stuff.**

**I ramble, blah blah blah.**

**Please enjoy this chapter!**

**Chapter 5: The Meeting**

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Sally meandered down the cobble-stoned road, her tiny feet making small clipping noises as they padded gently across the ground. An occasional drifting wind would rush past her, sending her hair a-flutter and the jagged end of her dress flapping about her, however she continued on despite the chill in the air, ignoring the occasional hiss of a stray cat or the yowling howl of a wolf in the distance.

The moon shone with a brightness that astounded her, even after all the times she marveled at it, and it seemed to be lighting her way in the dark. The stonewalls propped on either side of her seemed less ominous, less menacing as the moonlight shone down upon them, illuminating the wayward pumpkins perched at their tops. She had read once in a book that carved pumpkins usually had a name tagged to them, but she couldn't for the life of her remember what they were called—something about John's lantern, or perhaps Jim? She hadn't exactly paid attention to that particular detail. Sally shook herself out of her musings when she came upon a fork in the road.

She idled herself by fiddling her thumbs and biting at her lip as she stared up at the two signs tacked to the wooden post situated between the roadways. One read Graveyard and pointed left, which caused Sally to shudder, and the other read Pumpkin King in bold, black letters pointing the opposite direction. Well, she certainly didn't want to venture into the Graveyard, not just yet.

Sally squinted her eyes as she peered into the distance, the darkness blurring the image ahead of her. Something towered into the sky, gangly and crooked like an eyesore, yet somehow the image seemed familiar to her, as if she had seen it before, and as she hurried her footsteps and scurried along the road, she let out a chaste gasp and nearly halted in her tracks.

The tower.

The tower that had served as her inspiration for all the months of her coherent existence, the tower that had figuratively beckoned to her and left her yearning for the world outside the doctor's home—it's light was still burning, a singular ball of light that glowed with an eeriness that hadn't been present when she had watched it from afar. The tower held her gaze captivated, rendering her limbs immobile. She felt anchored to the spot, exhilaration and anxiety waging a battle within her, and for a second she felt her vision blank.

She pieced together the tidbits of information that had been provided during her trek over here, and she realized with a start that something crucial was making itself present.

The Pumpkin King, whomever he was, lived ahead in that looming tower. Sally seemed to convulse on the spot. The tower had been her only friend during the time she spent locked away in her room, and to find that the town's resident Pumpkin King dwelled there made her insides flutter. She thought back to the elegantly embellished directional sign she had glimpsed at—the Pumpkin King seemed to be a highly dignified person, someone surely honorary and societal, and the tower seemed to be his abode.

Sally wasn't ready to meet a King.

Despite this, the rag doll continued on and soon she found herself standing before two wrought iron gates that stood well over her head, spindly spears sticking out the top. Coasting the space about her for any wandering townspeople, Sally shuffled towards the gates and grasped the bars with her hands, pressing her bosom flush to the gate. The padlock pushed against her chest and she grimaced; however she didn't dare pull away.

The tower seemed so much more majestic, so much more regal and glorious and countless many other words of grandeur that failed to make it past Sally's lips, and to be standing so close to its presence nearly caused Sally's knees to buckle. She tightened her hold around the gate, gripping at it as if her life depended on it. The tower's light flicked across her face, steadily thrumming in and out, in and out, and she basked in the light it provided.

For an instant, she tore her gaze away from the tower and studied the premise surrounding it. A frighteningly narrow staircase lead to the very top, where a small wooden house resided on a steep hill, its appearance mottled by the darkness that encased it. The house looked frightening, marred by dusty blackened windows and a portentous looking door, but when she glimpsed up at the tower situated atop it, all previous thoughts of dread seemed to vanish.

Surely, whatever King resided here would happen to be kind, right? She couldn't imagine someone like Dr. Finkelstein living in the tower she admired so much—her thoughts wouldn't let any doubts pervade any illusion she had built up.

Why would a King live in such a dreary place as this, not to say that the tower seemed that way. What sort of King was he, and what did he look like? Did he have a pumpkin for a head, or was his love of pumpkins so pronounce that it served as his title? Or perhaps he wasn't even a King at all, maybe he was some sort of figure that the townspeople looked up to, instead of a King that sat upon a throne and ruled over the town. Whatever this King of Pumpkins was, she was sure to find out if she stayed a bit longer roaming the town, but even she knew there was a limit. She couldn't spend all night wandering about, not if she didn't want to get a firm scolding from the doctor. Before sunrise- she'd have to head back, whether she wanted to or not.

Sally sighed at the unfortunate revelation. There shouldn't have to be a time limit on her curiosity, her freedom, but alas, that's how it was always going to be under the doctor's care, and to think anything beyond that would only be wishful thinking. She wouldn't be able to handle pipe dreams.

Sally breathed and withdrew from the iron gate, her tiny hands still wrapped around the bars that barred her from the other side. The air was chilly and the wind whipped rapidly at her hair. A thin layer of mist settled at the top of the staircase, masking the narrow house that lay at the top, and for a brief moment, Sally shivered, succumbing to the gloom that surrounded her. The Pumpkin King seemed to be an eerie person, as eerie as the town he ruled over, but she hoped he wasn't so distasteful much like those foul witches she had met.

She really hoped he wasn't like them.

Sighing, Sally drew away from the gate and crossed her arms over her chest, hugging her limbs to her bosom, before she swiftly turned around and retreated. There was no point in just standing there in front of the gate as if it would magically open for her. The padlock was locked tight and she had no key to get in, and event though she had a picklock stuffed in her dress pocket, she was too frightened to even try to use it. She wasn't that rebellious—all she wanted was a night of freedom, a night to herself, she didn't want to end up vandalizing the very town she was so curious about.

"I suppose I can visit the graveyard," she whispered softly to herself. She stared off into the distance and looked beyond at the graveyard that sat jarringly under the light of the moon. She noticed with interest that there seemed to be a sloping, spiraling hill sitting at the center of the graveyard, a strange sight indeed. The hill was curved strangely, the tip of it curving in on itself, and to Sally, it looked to be the perfect place to sit and mull over her late-night expedition. Traipsing quietly about in the dark, Sally finally managed to make it to the outskirts of the graveyard, where she carefully clambered over a small stone barricade. She nearly lost her balance but managed to steady herself over the uneven ground, her arms spread out on either side of her as she tried to grasp at some equilibrium.

A dense fog layered thickly across the graveyard's earthy ground, masking the rotting tombstones that stood loftily in their places. She hesitantly weaved through them, tepidly running her fingers along their course and disintegrating surfaces. The air here was cold and frigid, the type of cold that could freeze and numb flesh, but fortunately Sally's body wasn't composed of fleshy tissue and nerve endings, so it did little to deter her from exploring the graves fixed permanently to the earth. The grave marks were etched with all sorts of odd and unfamiliar names, some of which she couldn't even pronounce, and she silently regarded them all with a sense of respect—this was a place that housed the bodies of beings that were once alive, a place that wasn't to be disturbed. So by being here, was she disturbing their rest? Sally would like to think that she wasn't, for it wasn't in her nature to be so careless, and if the graveyard belonged to the town, she wouldn't be able to satisfy her curiosity if she didn't explore the place at least once.

She wasn't trespassing, she told herself, biting at her lip; she was merely paying homage to the bodies that rested there, nothing more, nothing less. She nodded and bobbed her head at each tombstone she passed, until she was standing before the base of the spiral hill, looking up at it with such intent that she lost herself for a second. From her position, the hill looked steep and narrow, too narrow for such a tremulous person such as herself. Her feet were tiny and wobbly and wholly unstable, surely she couldn't make it up there? She'd fall off halfway, she was sure of it!

"But I do have my sewing supplies on hand if that should happen," she reassured herself, a small smile capturing her ruby lips. She brought a hand to her mouth, lightly tracing the stitches that were embedded in her skin, another habit of hers, before making her decision. Carefully, she took a diminutive step forward, her foot finding purchase amid the earthy ground, and just when she was about to hoist herself up and continue onward, a snap in the distance nearly caused her to loose her footing.

Sally immediately jumped back and scurried to a nearby grave marker that stood taller than she was. She shuffled behind it and crouched low to the ground, her knees brushing the ground while the occasional stray weed tickled her elbows. She slowed her breathing and tried to remain as silent as possible, and when nothing seemed to sound, Sally carefully peeked from around the tombstone and coasted her eyes about the premise.

She let out a chaste gasp. Standing in the distance, standing elevated and austere against the pounding moonlight, was a gangly figure, a figure too familiar for her mind to let pass.

If Sally had a heart, it would be thrashing against her chest, desperately trying to flee and hide, and that was exactly how the poor rag doll felt at that exact moment. Her fingers gripped a little harder at the edge of the tombstone, and her body seemed to tense and shudder, and out of instinct she quickly scrambled to a wider grave marker that stood beside her. The tombstone covered her body completely and she was grateful that this particular tombstone wasn't as corroded as the others.

She watched him, the Skeleton Man, as he gracefully strode across the ground, lithe legs gliding across the earth with practiced ease—Sally frowned. She envied how graceful and steady his gait was and wondered why she couldn't be like that, but of course, there was a fairly simple answer to that question: the doctor hadn't made her graceful and swanlike. There were many things about her body that weren't exactly as proportionate as she would have liked them to be, but she couldn't exactly complain—her body was complete and functional, something she counted her blessings for.

With interest clouding her vision, Sally watched on as the thin figure loomed about the graveyard, occasionally running a bony hand across a random tombstone. Once, he halted his movements and leaned down to fix a glowing pumpkin in place, before moving on and traipsing about the rest of the grounds.

He had a frown marring his skeletal face, Sally somberly noted, and his hollow eyes were slanted and inquisitive, as if he didn't know quite what to do. He stood straight and heaved out his chest, flicking a finger at the bowtie laced about his neck, before he dropped his arms altogether and stared up at the night sky.

"I've finally caught you."

Sally's breath hitched and she nearly felt like fainting. She stared wildly about her, gripping onto the tombstone for dear life. How had he noticed her so quickly, what had given her away? She wasn't ready for an encounter, she thought pathetically, rapidly shaking her head—she wasn't ready at all. What if she fumbled her words, or face-planted in front of him? She didn't know if she could handle such an embarrassment on her part, not in front of him, not in front of the Skeleton Man.

"I know you're there. Come out, please."

Sally didn't know why she even bothered to listen to the command, especially from someone she barely even knew, however she obeyed nonetheless. His voice sounded regal and left no room for protest, so it was only natural that she would follow along. She slowly withdrew from the shelter the tombstone had provided and stood to attention, her body swaying back and forth as she tried to steady her balance. She placed her hand on the tombstone for additional support and stared across at the Skeleton Man, her eyes peeled wide and her body trembling.

Meanwhile, the skeleton pressed his hands to the base of his back and slowly looked down from his anchored gaze on the sky, gradually turning his head until the hollow pit of his eyes locked on her. His mouth was set into a straight line, making it impossible for Sally to read his mood, although, he didn't seem too keen.

"Are you the one who's been spying on me?" he spoke softly, blinking his eyes languidly. Sally didn't bother to respond—she stood still and land-locked, her arms rooted to her sides as she shifted her weight. Her mouth seemed to go dry as she tried to think up of a smart response, if only her bewilderment at his question would let her comprehend anything. What did he mean by that, spying? This was only her third time seeing him, and this close as well, how could she have been spying on him if she had been locked up in a tower for most of her short, miserable life? Sally cocked her head, confusion quickly scrawling across her face.

"Well, answer," the skeleton urged, one eye socket slanting. He seemed peeved now, she thought glumly, her shoulders sinking. "You have an accomplice as well, don't you?"

Sally still didn't respond; it felt as if her mouth had been sewn shut, and strangely, most of it was anyway. The rag doll's thoughts wracked away in her brain as she hurriedly tried to divest his unwarranted accusations. He was mistaken; she hadn't even a friend! Igor hardly counted as an acquaintance, let alone a comrade. Surely he was mistaken, Sally thought frantically, taking a step back. Sure, she had always dreamed of meeting him, but she never thought about spying on him; she had a conscience and she usually knew how to use it. Sally gulped and pressed a hand to her face, her fingers fiddling with the loose stitches strewn about her mouth- she knew what was to come next, she always dreaded when the doctor scolded her, and if she was to be chastised by the man she distantly fantasized about, it would surely wound her.

"I'd appreciate it if you and your partner would kindly stop invading my privacy," the Skeleton Man pressed, narrowing the pits of his eyes. His frown seemed to deepen, nearly hanging off the circular curve of his face. "I can't even enjoy my morning walk without you two ruining it, and frankly, I'm losing my patience."

This wasn't how Sally envisioned meeting the Skeleton Man. He was supposed to catch her when she stumbled to greet him, they were supposed to exchange their names and talk about their hobbies and interests—he wasn't supposed to be spouting accusations at her, all the while sporting a feral glower.

Everything was going so wrong, so horribly, horribly wrong.

"I appreciate your enthusiasm," he continued on, the tone of his voice lowering until it was barely a whisper. "But please, if you two continue this charade, I'll have to resort to other methods."

And with that, he left.

She watched as he slinked off into the distance, his tall figure eventually lost to the hazy fog and mist that permeated the atmosphere. She dropped to her knees, kneecaps sinking in to the mossy earth as she leaned against a tombstone. She was shaking, she realized, so lost in a reality that was fast disintegrating before her very eyes. She wanted to sprint after him and tug at his coat-tails, she wanted to plead for him to stop so she could explain that this was all just a big misunderstanding and that the real culprits were those two nasty witches she had met all those days ago.

But for the life of her, she couldn't move.

Sally placed a shaky hand to her chest, where a heart should have been, and sobbed.

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**A/N: Next chapter: Home visits and misunderstandings, not the title mind you, but the content.**

**Oh, how can I be so cruel to poor Sally? Seriously, I absolutely LOVE Sally, she's like the cutest thing ever. She's so sweet and always fusses over Jack, it's like molasses, really. Anyway, just had to gush about how awesome I think she is.**

**Jack is another story altogether. Is it okay to find a skeleton hot?**

**I don't know, but that's coming from someone who finds Peter Pan hot as well. **

**D:**

**Please review!**


	6. Visits

**A/N: Soooo, here's the next one! Then I can take a break from this for a while.**

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"You disobedient, abhorrent girl! Oh, I ought to…I ought to…"

Sally sat upon her cot, her shoulders hunched forward as she fiddled with her fingers within her lap. Her ears were ringing from the doctor's shrill voice and she found she couldn't quite listen to him, not when he was yelling at her so horribly.

The doctor sat straight in his wheelchair, the thin curve of his lips twisted into a feral snarl, his beady eyes glassy and quivering—he looked about ready to explode and Sally was only waiting until he did. Igor didn't make the situation any better either; the distorted hunchback was standing dutifully by the doctor's side, tiny hands pressed to his chest as he giggled and sneered, obviously enjoying her scolding.

It hadn't been her fault that the doctor decided to wake up extra early, earlier than he normally woke from his slumber. He had been near the threshold when she pick-locked the door open—she had been down right terrified upon seeing him there, a mangled snarl to his lips.

"I've given you life, and this is how you repay me?" Dr. Finkelstein growled, slamming a curled fist down upon the arm of his wheelchair. "By blatantly disobeying my orders and sneaking about, at night no less? What possessed you to escape and wander off on your own?"

Sally didn't respond, she felt mute. Her head was tilted low and her gaze was averted to the floor, long strands of auburn hair framing her face like a provisional curtain. She was too afraid to look up and meet his glower head-on, it would only add to the dread steadily building inside of her. She didn't know what the penalty of her midnight escapade would cost her and she was terrified to find out what sort of punishment the doctor would eventually deal her. It was early morning and she figured by the afternoon, he would have her doing some sort of chore as punishment; either that, or he'd rip her limbs off one by one and keep them from her until he saw she was fit to receive them back.

Sally shivered at the latter.

"I was going to surprise you today, but I suppose I'll keep you locked in here," the doctor grumbled, waving a hand at her. "…and you'll end up missing it then."

Sally's head immediately shot up and she stared across at the doctor with imploring eyes, ruby lips parted. A surprise, for her? Surely the doctor was fibbing, he had never surprised her before—actually, he rarely ever did nice things for her. If he was being honest, what kind of surprise was it? Would he bestow her with a kit of new sewing supplies, or perhaps restock the kitchen pantry with fresh spices and herbs?

"A surprise?" she asked meekly, furrowing a brow.

"We're to have a guest today," the doctor idled, tapping his gloved fingers along his lap. "And mind you, he's a rather important guest, a prominent one."

"A guest!" Sally couldn't help but let emotion seep from her voice. She may have sounded eager, but that was only because the doctor never invited guests to his home. Why, no one has even knocked on the door before!

"I am to introduce you today, since you're quite ready to be revealed."

"Revealed," Sally repeated inaudibly, cocking her head. The doctor laughed at her expression, a hideous, garbling sound that seemed to choke from his throat.

"Oh, my dear girl, don't tell me you've forgotten?" he asked, his laughter dying down. Sally stared at him quizzically, a frown to lips. "I created you, Sally! You're but an experiment, my first successful experiment at creating life! Why, I'm sure he'll be very pleased to see your progress, I've told him so much about you, even though he has yet to see you. But now, I'm not so sure…"

"No!" Sally quipped, pressing her hands to her mouth. She gulped on instinct and sat straight, schooling her emotions. "What I mean is, I'm ready doctor. I'm very sorry for disobeying you and I promise I'll never do it again. I-It's a phase, I'm sure of it. It'll be out of my system in no time."

The doctor cocked his head and peered suspiciously at her from the corner of his eyes, pressing his hand underneath his chin. "See that it does." He huffed then, gesturing Igor to stand ready behind the wheelchair. "I suppose I can punish you after he leaves, but in the meantime, I want you properly groomed. Our guest should be here at two, so be ready. Igor."

"Wait!" Sally called, leaning forward. The doctor cocked an eyebrow and motioned for her to continue. "Whom exactly is this guest?"

Dr. Finkelstein sneered. "Why, the Pumpkin King of course, foolish girl, who else?" With a snap of the doctor's fingers, Igor immediately grabbed hold of the wheelchair's handles and guided the doctor out the door, where the old man then took off on his own. Igor leisurely shut the door behind him, all the while grinning eerily at Sally. The rag doll feigned innocence and averted her eyes, cocking her head to the side, and when the door finally shut close, she giggled with barely contained exhilaration.

The Pumpkin King! The Pumpkin King was going to be a guest in her home! Oh, she couldn't even suppress the shudders and shivers currently wracking her body like perilous waves. She could hardly imagine why the Pumpkin King would visit the doctor, but her creator seemed to be on good terms with the King, if he talked with him often about her progress. Sally realized with a gasp that she'd have to be on her best behavior…and she'd also have to look her best. If she were to be presented before a King, she'd have to dress accordingly.

However, there was one small hindrance, something that didn't sit well with her: the doctor hadn't provided her with any new clothes. She only had the dress she was wearing, and though it wasn't at all dirty, a few scuffmarks here and there, she didn't feel comfortable meeting such a collective person such as the Pumpkin King in her feeble attire. She looked more like a scarecrow than a properly groomed rag doll.

"I suppose it can't be helped," she breathed, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "I'll just have to tidy myself up then." There was a minute rip at the hem of her dress, but it wasn't something she couldn't mend. She had more than enough thread to stitch together any ripped seams and tears. Now, what to do about her hair. "The comb!"

Sally happily skipped across her room, halting before a small fissure residing in-between the stones of her wall. She stuck her hand in and pulled out a bristly comb composed of left over broom bristles that happened to fall off during her daily sweep of the kitchen. It had taken a good month to collect enough bristles to weave together and form a suitable comb, one thick enough to brush through the strands of her thick, stringy hair. Setting the comb at the top of her head, she gently sifted through her hair and worked at the tangles that managed to collect between the strands.

So lost in her grooming, she nearly forgot her previous quandary, as if it hadn't happened at all…but it did. She immediately stopped what she was doing, her hand dropping beside her lap, laying limp and useless at her side.

The Skeleton Man, her knight in shining armor…had accused her of doing such horrible, nasty things. They had never even met or spoken to each other, and that was how their first official meeting had gone. She had dreamed of it happening some other way, something theatrical, but it had fast strayed away from her fantasies.

Sally sighed breathily and hunched her shoulders, her eyes fluttering against her cheeks. She breathed in deeply, a cloud of gloom hovering over her as she tried to will the images away. He had looked so chagrined, and at her! She couldn't stand to think of it any longer, the way his frown had deepened so harshly that he looked positively peeved, possibly even angered.

"He was mistaken," she whispered, shaking her head softly. That's what she told herself over and over again. Oh how she wished she could turn back time so she could only explain, instead of standing there with her mouth hanging agape like a cod. She had been so stricken by his mere presence that she hadn't known what to say or do! She hadn't been ready.

Perhaps she would never be ready.

"I hope we don't meet again anytime soon," she whispered somberly to herself, threading the comb through her hair once more. She smiled solemnly at the paradox in her statement—a few days ago, hadn't she been wishing to meet him once more? She didn't know if she could handle another chance meeting, not if he thought she was stalking him. "If only I could have just explained…"

She continued combing her hair, trying to dispel the wayward thoughts jumbling about in her mind. For now, she would have to forget all about the Skeleton Man and instead focus her thoughts on the Pumpkin King. If she wanted to both impress the doctor and their guest, she'd have to be composed, not busy mulling away thinking about someone she barely even knew.

"I'll look presentable by the time he comes."

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Sally sat upon her cot, kicking her feet to and fro as she anxiously waited for the doctor's call. Earlier, he had wandered up to her room to check on her, and after finding her state of appearance acceptable, had told her he would merely call her name when the time arose.

This was to be her first meeting with the Pumpkin King and she wanted everything to go over nicely. She couldn't help but let her imagination run wild, as it was often prone to do, her mind sprouting up images of handsome kings and pumpkins and crowns, although she didn't know how those three things strung together. Sally shrugged her shoulders and began to hum a merry little tune, something she had made up during the late hours she would spend cooped up in her tower staring across at the Pumpkin King's abode. It would seem the lofty tower had been her inspiration for almost everything these days…

"Sally!"

Sally immediately stood to attention, nearly falling sideways as she scrambled to regain her balance. Her fingers danced rapidly at her sides as her body seemed to jitter, her nerves getting the best of her. She felt her insides flutter, as if a vacuum had begun sucking all the leaves from her, and she very nearly fainted. She hoped she didn't topple down the stairs, or trip over her clumsily made feet. With a shaky breath and a counterfeit smile, Sally sauntered out her door and meandered down the corridor, carefully stepping down the spiral staircase that led downstairs. Her small hand gripped tight at the banister, her fingers nearly gouging into the metal, before she willed herself to remain calm and took a deep inhale of breath.

"Calm, keep calm," she told herself, briefly closing her eyes. With each step she took, the doctor's voice seemed to get louder, however she found it odd that she couldn't hear their guest's voice, unless he was only listening and not adding to the conversation. By the time she reached the final step, Dr. Finkelstein whirred to greet her.

"Sally, my dear girl! Come now!" he called to her, beckoning her with his hand. She peered in the distance, furrowing her brow. She couldn't make out any guest, but perhaps if she continued forward, she would glimpse at him. Obeying the doctor's command, Sally slowly shuffled towards him, biting at her lip to quell her jittering nerves.

"She has made such progress in the past months, Jack, such progress! I'm sure you'll be impressed!" the doctor drawled on, eager to please. Shyly, Sally stepped out from the shadows, and what she saw towering beside the doctor, gangly limbs and all, nearly caused her to stumble back, her mouth hanging ajar.

"The Skeleton Man?" she whispered frantically, quickly regaining her balance. The Skeleton Man…was the Pumpkin King? The Pumpkin King was the Skeleton Man? No, this must all be some sort of nightmare—she had to wake up, she simply had to wake up.

He seemed quite as shocked as she was. The hollow pits of his eyes were wide and probing, the stretch of his mouth pulled into a taught frown. He slanted one eye socket, tilting his head, and before she could scurry away, she saw realization quickly scrawl across his face. His emotions were much more readable when they weren't continuously masked by gloom.

She had never been so glad to hear the doctor's voice when he quickly intervened. "Please, why don't we all retire to the library for refreshments? Igor!"

There was a brief pause where neither said anything, before the doctor quietly scowled and pressed a button on his motor chair. "Igor! Sally, please escort Jack to the library while I look for Igor. I'll be back in but a moment!"

Sally modestly nodded her head, her eyes cast to the floor, and she hesitantly began to move, her feet shuffling across the ground.

"T-this way," she breathed, hurriedly passing by the slender figure of the Pumpkin King—she was going to have to get used to calling him by that title. As she passed him by, she couldn't help but notice his scent: he smelled like pumpkin and spice, a very pleasing scent for someone so gaunt.

As she led him to the library, she tried to shake off the whole awkwardness of the situation. So the Pumpkin King happened to be the Skeleton Man—the skeleton she had so often fantasized about was a King of the town she lived in, and he just so happened to think she was spying on him.

This wasn't going to go over very nicely after all.

As she shuffled in and out between bookcases, she guided him to a lone table sitting at the opposite end of the library. The room was musty in here and many cobwebs weaved in and around tattered books, some of the webs nearly draping the floor. She always asked the doctor if she could somehow clean the room, since it was so dusty, but he always told her to busy herself somewhere else and leave the library alone. Really, she couldn't understand his way of thinking. Who would deliberately hold off on cleaning such a dusty room like the library?

She was so busy thinking that she almost rammed into the table. She let out a frustrated sigh and backed away, clasping her hands in front of her. Without looking up, Sally gestured for the Pumpkin King to sit, but when he did nothing, she gulped and stood there awkwardly, unsure of what to do. A light bulb seemed to flicker on in her head and she suddenly remembered her manners…and who exactly accompanied her.

She let out a small gasp and immediately made for the other end of the table where the King was standing and pulled out his chair, motioning for him to sit. He just continued to stand there, bony arms crossed over his chest as he stared down at her, eye sockets slanted and narrowed. Finally, he took the proffered seat and sat down, arms still snug across his upper torso.

Meanwhile, Sally shakily scuttled towards her own chair and plopped down onto it, clasping her hands atop the table. They sat their in silence, neither breathing a word, and Sally was beginning to wonder if they wouldn't say anything to each other at all. She knew he had many a thing to say to her, oh that much she knew, she was just anxious to finally make amends and explain.

"So you're the spy, Sally is it?"

Sally flinched. That sentence alone managed to reopen the metaphorical wounds she had received the day before, when she had sobbed her heart out over the mottled earth of the graveyard. She had been so stricken by his words that she spent nearly an hour sitting alone beside an aging tombstone, humming a somber tune in hopes of quelling how horribly embarrassed she was.

"I would have never thought you were the doctor's," the Pumpkin King queried, scraping an emaciated finger along the rounded curve of his chin. "He usually keeps a tight leash on things."

'_Things_,' Sally immediately took note, her body tensing. In that instant, her mind flashed to what the doctor had said earlier, what he always told her each and every second she was near him—she was nothing but an experiment, a test subject, and now a thing. Was that all she was, was that all she would ever be?

This town, these people.

Is this how they all were?

"I'll have to tell the doctor of course, of your little excursions," he trailed on, the tone of his voice calm and casual. He smiled at her, such an enchanting smile, a staggering one. "I don't want a repeat of this. Besides that, you seem to be well put together. The doctor has outdone himself."

Silly didn't dare say a word. She sat still and silent, her eyes anchored on a mangled book propped along the floor a little ways away. The doctor would never believe her if she took the time to explain things to the both of them, if she told them that the Pumpkin King had mistaken her for those two foul witches that stalked him almost every hour of the day.

The doctor never believed her anyway, why should he now? By this time tomorrow, she'll probably be destroyed. Sally shook with dread at the thought. She had a life, a will of her own, surely they wouldn't extinguish her spirit without a second glance, even if she was just an experiment? She wanted to live; she enjoyed life, no matter how grueling it could be. There were so many things she wanted to explore.

"I'm not an experiment, and I'm not a thing," she whispered tersely, finally locking her own eyes with his. Her resolve seemed to slip and she could distantly feel her vision blur, but it felt as if she wasn't even in her own body anymore. The Skeleton Man sat still, eye sockets narrowing even more. "And I am not a spy."

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**A/N: Please leave a review on your way out!**


	7. Inquisitive

**Tweekerz Says:**  
**- I haven't updated this thing since last year! :O**  
**- lol.**

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Sally could practically hear the figurative seconds tick by.

She sat rigid and erect in her seat, shoulders taught and ruby lips set into a pursed line, yet no matter how apathetic she appeared to be, her eyes were diverted elsewhere, too perturbed to lock gazes with the skeletal figure sitting across her.

She busied herself with the hem of her tattered and frayed dress, sweeping her eyes across the collecting veils of spider webs laced about the towering bookcases- most of her observances were trivial, enough to distract herself while the profound silence still remained.

She felt her leafy insides churn. She had been far too forward- why couldn't she have kept her mouth shut? She had been so incensed just for that very moment, and all because he didn't believe her! Why would he accuse her without any proof to show of it?

The Pumpkin King was another matter altogether.

He sat straight against his chair, one emaciated finger tepidly tapping at the rounded underside of his chin. His other thin arm was draped across his lap, hidden from view. A taught frown marred his skeletal lips and he cocked a brow, a single empty socket narrowing as his gaze nearly burned into the slight figure sitting across him.

She was purposefully avoiding his gaze, he noted, and after such a brazen declaration, he expected as much. Of course, it would take much more than a complacent protest to dissuade his accusations. She had been caught red handed. Now, who in their right mind would be loping about the night, besides him of course? For months he had felt the faint presence of another being, make that two, intruding his privacy, always there, always lurking in the shadows. He never actually caught the perpetrators, and just when he thought he'd never apprehend the culprits, he finally caught one, and it happened to be a girl- a creation of Dr. Finkelstein no less.

She seemed to have stalkerish tendencies, a behavioral trait that would simply have to be remedied. Perhaps the doctor needed to make some final adjustments to his creation, this Sally, and what better than to have the Pumpkin King subtly bring up ways for the doctor to improve Sally's mentality! Why, he was the Pumpkin King! He could do as he pleased.

He'd just have to coerce the girl into ratting out her accomplice; it would be simple enough- a few false pleasantries, a charming smile here and there, and she'd see that he meant no harm other than serving justice when and where appropriate. He couldn't exactly let this predicament slide, no matter how merciful he could be, something the townspeople prided him for.

The little rag doll would tell him eventually, he was certain. Perhaps he should play the game a little differently then? He sat back in his chair, a small twinge of a smile stretching across his face. He wouldn't tell the doctor about Sally just yet, not until she gave up the name of her accomplice, and once he had both of them under his snare, he'd figure out an appropriate punishment.

"I see," he drawled softly, draping his arms across his chest. Both his eyes were narrowed. He waved her off with a swish of his bony hand. "No matter."

"Do you believe me? I haven't been stalking you," Sally implored, peering from beneath the auburn curtain of her hair. Hadn't he sensed the truth in her voice? She met his gaze and shrunk back at his lilting smirk. The Skeleton Man- the Pumpkin King, she corrected, was smirking at her. It was unnerving.

"We'll save that for another time," the Pumpkin King ebbed, folding his hands neatly across the rickety table. "My apologies, but I'm afraid I have yet to properly introduce myself."

"You are...the Pumpkin King, are you not?" Sally wavered, furrowing her brow.

He smiled a toothy, skeletal grin and merely laid back in his chair, the black spidery ruffles of his bow tie skimming his chin. "Why yes, of course, but I do have a name you know."

Sally gulped and widened her eyes. She turned to the side and fixed her stare on a lone bookshelf situated in a corner opposite the room. She never bothered to add a name to the Skeleton Man. He always appeared as a regal, graceful figure in her fantasies, an ethereal being that was far above trivial nuisances such as names. What would his name be like? She couldn't imagine any name that would fit him aptly enough. Would his name languidly roll off her tongue, or stick fast in her throat?

"As you might know already, I'm known as the Pumpkin King of Halloween Town," he grinned, nodding his head. He tapped his spindly fingers along the table, gesturing for her attention. Sally flinched and turned to meet his gaze, her stare wavering as she stared across at him. His smile only widened. "My name is Jack Skellington, pleased to meet you." Even though you've been invading my privacy for the past several months and ultimately testing my patience, he wanted to add.

Jack. Jack Skellington. Sally chanted the name in her head and engraved it into her memory- it was a simple name that danced on her tongue effortlessly, yet it held a certain power to it that she could literally feel thrumming through her. It was a shame that she would never get to voice his name- one didn't simply address a king by their name, or so the fairy tale stories told her.

"I am...Sally," she replied slowly, her voice tapering away. She sat a little straighter and brushed a strand of hair over her shoulder. It was a bit alarming to have him suddenly go from accusing her, to smiling at her as if he had always been pleased with her company. His smile was enchanting, but she couldn't help but feel terribly bothered.

"I know," Jack quipped, idly adjusting his tie. "The doctor has done very well with you."

Sally stiffened, her fingers weaving together in her lap. It was meant to be a compliment, but it certainly didn't translate that way. It was an insult, and only added to the belief that she was indeed only an oggled experiment instead of a respected individual. She wanted to voice these musings aloud, but he beat her to it.

"I'm curious, what are you made of exactly?"

Sally jerked her head and gaped at him, a tinge of blue faintly dusting her cheeks. "I-I beg your pardon?"

The Pumpkin King- Jack, cocked his head inquisitively, leering across the table from his seat.

"I've never seen anything quite like you before. It's...strange," he confessed, squinting an eye socket. It was true- he had never seen anything like her. She was a far cry from the usual bloodthirsty vampire or hideous ghoul inhabiting the streets of Halloween Town. This Sally creation was almost aesthetically pleasant to look at. Her long auburn hair was stringy, yet groomed appropriately enough, and though her clothes were merely patches of torn fabric stitched together, it seemed to suit her. The stitches on her dress matched the bold stitches decorating her body. "You must be very light in weight. The stitching is crudely done, meaning it can't very well support anything substantial. What are your insides like?"

"M-my insides?" Sally squeaked, pressing into her chair. She placed her hands to her belly and looked across at him.

"Yes, yes, your insides," Jack waved at her. An electric jolt shook through him. He felt fidgety and restless, and all he wanted to do was ask a plethora of questions- he wanted to know how long it took to make her, he wanted to know the purpose of her existence, or how she had the capacity to retain information and reciprocate it, because by all means, he could tell she wasn't completely daft. Over the years, he noticed that if something intrigued him enough, he would go through any lengths to sate his curiosity until either his interest waned or there was simply no more mystery to uncover. He pressed both his hands upon the table, staring at her imploringly.

"What are you stuffed with?" he queried, hitching his shoulders. "No offense, but you look more like a rag doll than anything else."

Sally immediately stood up from her chair. Jack watched her rise from her seat, her slender arms pressed firmly to her sides. Her tiny fingers were curled into fists, and her body shook with a rage she couldn't comprehend. Who was this...this Jack person, to suddenly ask so many invasive and humiliating questions? Had he no shame?

And then she zeroed in on his last statement- was she that despicable? She was tired of the doctor, tired of his relentless experiments and scathing attitude, but most of all, she was tired of the Skeleton Man. Her visions and fantasies of the figure that had once symbolized her sense of freedom seemed to crumble and wither away into a heaping pile of dust. Although it was rather pathetic, she had made a friend in the lonely tower that stood above the city skyline, and in turn, made an indirect comrade in the Skeleton Man as well, even if she hadn't known both were connected at the time.

The Skeleton Man she had fantasized of so fondly in her dreams was no more, and she despaired at the loss. This Jack Skellington was not her Skeleton Man.

"Please direct any questions you may have to the doctor," Sally whispered stiffly, her voice lilting. Her entire body shivered and trembled, not from anger, but from mortification. She rigidly stepped away from her chair and promptly tucked it underneath the table. Clasping her hands in front of her, she tipped her head and bowed. She wanted to run away and hide in her room- she was mortified, absolutely mortified, and yet still she had to remember that Jack was a king, and people bowed to kings, didn't they? It was considered good form, wasn't it? Either way, she had to be mindful in his presence, lest the doctor punish her for being disrespectful.

"Please excuse me," Sally breathed, and quickly trotted away as fast as her wobbly limbs would allow her. She teetered past countless many book shelves and wove in and around tables, occasionally knocking against a chair or stumbling over a strewn book. When she finally made it out the library and stepped into the hallway, Sally unfortunately rammed straight into Igor.

The hulking fool only grinned toothily at her, wringing his gnarled and withered hands in front of him. Sally gulped and backed away, settling her eyes on the doctor who was trailing along in his motor cheer. Once seeing her, Dr. Finkelstein let a snarl escape his shriveled lips and scowled at her.

"Sally, why are you just standing there girl? I hope you've excused yourself properly!" he reprimanded, slamming a tiny gloved hand on the arm of his chair. His black beady eyes were quivering and he raised a brow in suspicion. "Where are you running off to anyway, you must stay down here until our guest leaves!"

"Oh no! I'm not running off!" Sally said quickly. Thankfully she knew how to get herself out of this mess. "I was simply heading downstairs. I will be preparing lunch for both you and our guest."

The doctor leered at her and leaned back in his chair, drumming his fingers along his lap. After a lengthy pause thick with tension, he finally waved her off and powered up his chair.

"I suppose we could use a bit of lunch," he scoffed. "Make it well, Sally! I don't want the Pumpkin King to think you're incompetent at preparing meals. Ring when it's ready."

When Igor and the doctor disappeared from sight, Sally slumped against the wall and brought a hand to her head, running her fingers through her hair.

She couldn't have felt more miserable.

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**Tweekerz Says:**  
**- I finally got my lazy ass to write this chapter, all typed entirely on my phone.**  
**- Jack has a wide range of emotions. He can go from pleasant, to mean and nasty in the blink of an eye (refer to the scene when Lock, Shock and Barrel bring back the Easter Bunny instead of Sandy Claws). He has a short temper and is always Inquisitive! It's hurting our dear Sally, but he doesn't know that. As usual.**  
**- I'm not trying to make him the bad guy here! I LOOOOOVE Jack to death. He'll come around. It's just how I see him as.**  
**- I'd like some more please. Reviews, that is.**


	8. Arrangement

**Tweekerz: SORRY FOR SUCH A LATE UPDATE. Oh god, really I am, but you can't help these things. Sometimes you fall out of a fandom, sometimes you don't, but eventually you get inspired again and come back.**

**You want to know what inspired me to whip out this chapter? Well, I went cruising through Hollywood with a friend and we stopped by LACMA, where an upcoming Tim Burton exhibit will open (well, by the time you see this chapter it'll be open already) I CANNOT WAIT. I swear, I'm going when it first opens. I should bring my iPod and listen to the TNBC soundtrack while I'm there xD INSPIRATION TO THE EXTREME. Any TNBC fans living around the Los Angeles area should check it out!**

**Also, THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE REVIEWS. I absolutely adore reading your reviews, and though I haven't updated in quite a long time, I just want you to know that your reviews are what keep me going even when I'm on a mini-hiatus. Thank you so much. All of you. :3**

**Anyway, on to the story!**

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It was cold and damp down in the kitchen.

Sally stood before the pantry, eyeing the rickety wooden shelves that were stocked with rows upon rows of herbs, spices, and other food ingredients. She reached up and grabbed at a rectangular tin container that sat at the topmost shelf and set it in her hand basket.

The stew she was going to prepare would consist of Swamp Salt, fermented bat meat, Sinister Spice, and Pumpkin broth. It was a stew she only prepared on special occasions of the doctor's choosing, so she wasn't quite practiced with making it, however, she did have confidence in her cooking—it was the only thing she knew she was good at, along with sewing. The broth would be filled with chunks of dried and fermented meat, just how the doctor liked it, and sandwiches would be served as a side meal. Sally exited out the pantry and shut the door behind her, teetering her way across the kitchen where she then set her hand-basket down upon the table.

She sifted through her basket of ingredients, propping the essential fixings beside the cauldron that was already simmering and bubbling. She poured the pumpkin broth into the soup and stirred a ladle through the liquid, adding a generous amount of Swamp Salt with her free hand. She withdrew the ladle and set it down, shuffling over to the cutting board where a slab of bat meat sat marinating in a bowl of sour sauce. She fished the bat meat out with a fork and set it down on the cutting board, immediately chopping the meat into thick chunks. She scooped the meat onto a small plate and walked back to the cauldron, dropping the meaty chunks into the broth. Finally, she uncapped the Sinister Spice and eyeballed the measurement, sprinkling the fine powder all along the surface of the broth. She stirred again with the ladle for a couple of seconds, before withdrawing and setting the spoon on the table.

She gently wafted the stew's scent and decided that she'd have to add a few plant ingredients to the broth. The doctor usually just liked it with meat and nothing else added, however, since she was not only serving the doctor but the Pumpkin King as well, the broth called for something extra. Perhaps a few sprigs of lemon grass and blood extract would do the trick, or possibly wilted flowers?

Sally's mind took a detour. She had tried her hardest to distract herself with her cooking, yet she couldn't tear her mind away from the incessant images that flogged her brain, images of the Pumpkin King smirking at her, the way hit pitted eyes accusingly stabbed into her as if she couldn't escape his glower.

She hunched her shoulders and leaned over the table, fingering the serrated edge of her carving knife. Her mind was hazy, as hazy as it had ever been, even surpassing the day when she first awoke on the doctor's operating table. She was still very much embarrassed about what had transpired upstairs with the Pumpkin King—the Skeleton Man. She had been humiliated and degraded, and all in front of those pitted black eyes that seemed to regard her as some sort of spectacle. Would she ever get the respect she deserved? Was she doomed to slave away in this damp kitchen all her life, dreaming but never seeing the world beyond?

Sighing, Sally traipsed back to the pantry and collected a few sprigs of Weed Rat and lemon grass, along with a tiny bottle of blood extract. She walked back to the table and set her ingredients down, her body leering over the ingredients. She set her hands down upon the edge of the table, steadying herself as she cast her head down, long auburn hair trailing over her shoulder.

It couldn't be helped.

If the Pumpkin King saw her merely as an experiment and a common thief, then so be it. There was nothing she could do to sway his mind and make him think otherwise—he was the Pumpkin King! There was absolutely no way to go against a king that ruled over the town she lived in, especially since it seemed the Skeleton Man sided with the doctor. Sally mentally scolded herself; she had to stop calling him that—he was the Skeleton Man no more.

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Sally wobbled down the hallway pushing a cart loaded with two bowls of steaming stew and a tray of perfectly cut sandwiches (which consisted of a tangy lemon paste and slices of pumpkin). The cart was old, and squealed and squeaked as she pushed it down the corridor, the grating noise reverberating off the solid stone walls. She hoped the doctor would be satisfied with her cooking, but most importantly, she hoped it would suit the Pumpkin King's tastes.

Sally stopped in her tracks, a thought coming to mind. Her body went completely still, her shoulders tense and rigid as she fought to maintain her grip on the cart. What if the Pumpkin King told the doctor of her falsely accused thievery while she was preparing their meals?

"No," she whispered, her fingers tightening around the handle of the push-cart. She couldn't possibly face either of them if that were true. The doctor would surely tear her limb from limb and dump her outside to rot with the insects and rabid animals that prowled the night. She didn't want to become fertilizer for the earth outside.

Sally gulped and continued on. She had meals to deliver—if the Pumpkin King did in fact inform the doctor of her supposed "thievery", then there was nothing she could do about it but accept whatever punishment that came forth. Or perhaps she could escape! She had done it once before, she could always do it again! She would escape and never, ever return, and venture into the woods and make a life for herself away from the doctor, away from Halloween Town—away from the Pumpkin King.

Sally knew she shouldn't be smiling at a time like this, but the thought seemed to ease her nerves, and before she knew it, she was standing before the entryway of the library, both the doctor and the Pumpkin King giving her peculiar looks. She coughed into her shoulder and wheeled the cart through the door.

"Lunch has been prepared," Sally whispered softly, stopping the cart just before the table. She then went about setting the heaping bowls of stew on the table, one in front of the doctor, and one in front of the Pumpkin King. She set the tray of sandwiches at the center of the table and then arranged the silverware and other necessary utensils beside them. She did all this without even raising her head. She set about her work diligently, and when she was finally done, she folded her arms in front of her and took a cautious step back, eyes still trained on the floor. She was glad that nothing seemed to be amiss. She had been expecting the doctor to yell at her the moment he saw her standing in the doorway. She wondered why the Pumpkin King chose not to relate his accusations to the doctor.

'_Perhaps he only wishes to draw out my torture,'_ Sally though somberly, her fingers tightening around the fabric of her dress.

"That will be all Sally," the doctor waved at a hand at her, picking up a spoon and stirring it in his stew. Silly didn't even look up, but she nodded nonetheless and made to leave, but the Pumpkin King's voice made her halt in her tracks.

"Just a minute doctor," the skeleton began, bony fingers clasped before him. He hadn't even touched his food yet. The doctor motioned for Sally to remain where she was by grunting at her.

"I would like to schedule a private meeting with your marvelous creation," Jack continued, leering over his bowl. His pitted eyes were slightly narrowed, a beguiling smile stretched across his bony face. "Held at my quarters, of course."

The doctor's eyes glittered. "Is there any particular reason for this meeting, my dear King?"

"As you know, I am curious by nature, and since you've created such a fascinating specimen, I merely wish to observe. This is by far your greatest work yet doctor. I'm astounded."

Sally bit at her lip and watched for the doctor's reaction—she widened her eyes. The doctor had a wide smile along his trumped lips, little fingers fiddling with his soup spoon. She wondered why her flattering never worked for the doctor like she wanted it to. Whenever she would try to compliment him, he would interrupt and tell her to waste her breath elsewhere.

"Why of course!" the doctor exclaimed jovially. "Of course! When shall we arrange this meeting?"

"I wish I could have scheduled it for today, but I have some rather pressing matters to attend to unfortunately," the Pumpkin King muttered, waving a lazy finger through the air. "I will be by to pick her up tomorrow around noon, would that be alright?"

"Yes! Anything!" the doctor chortled. "I will have her ready by then."

"Wonderful!" Jack exclaimed, clasping his hands together. "Now we can move on to this lovely lunch!"

"You may leave now Sally," the doctor turned to her, giving her a counterfeit smile. Sally merely nodded, but before she turned around, her eyes momentarily glimpsed to the side, and she almost forgot that the doctor had ordered her to leave—the Pumpkin King was staring at her, lazily stirring his spoon about his bowl.

Sally quickly turned around and darted out the library.

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**Tweekerz: OuO**

**You know, when I typed the whole "preparing the bat meat for the stew" part, I was actually salivating and getting hungry, so hungry that I got up and made me a bowl of soup. OTL**

**Please leave a review!**


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